16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Emilia
“ M iss Walters?” The question pulls me from my thoughts, and I realise that not only have we reached The Warehouse, but the driver Enzo sent to collect me is standing on the curb with my door open, confusion etched on his face.
He’s holding his hand out in invitation, as if my hesitation may be a request for assistance, not that I need it.
I take his hand, using it to help me out of the backseat.
I’m glad I decided to wear pants as several camera flashes go off as I slide out, no doubt hoping to catch some celebrity in a compromising position for a front page. Fucking vultures.
I drop the driver's hand with a thankful murmur and adjust the small bag strap on my bare shoulder.
I glare my displeasure at the gathered media being held back with velvet ropes.
The pathway up to the heavily guarded front entrance is being kept clear while a line of hopeful patrons begins just off to the side of the doors and winds around the corner, out of sight.
My chin lifts and I stride confidently toward the open front doors, as I approach the music within is more of a pulsing beat I can feel, rather than sound I can hear.
“Emilia Walters for Mr Rossi,” the driver announces.
A nod of acknowledgement from the huge bouncer is all the direction I get as he unhooks the rope.
He reaches up to touch his earpiece and murmurs something into the attached microphone, too quietly for me to hear.
He doesn’t look like he will stop me from entering, so I stride past him, stopping a few steps inside the door to let my eyes adjust to the darkness.
A huge dancefloor is in front of me, lit with strobe lights pulsing underneath it that illuminate the space.
A long bar and some high tables with stools take up the whole right side of the ground floor.
On the left are booths filled with groups of people all leaning forward to be heard over the music.
But it is the set of metal stairs against the side wall that catch my attention.
Given the presence of two more menacing looking bouncers with earpiece coils and another velvet rope between them blocking the stairs, I guess that they lead up to the VIP area.
My eyes follow the stairs up to a small platform about halfway up the staircase that hangs out over the dancefloor beneath it.
A few scantily clad women all wearing varying shades of the same dress, that look basically painted on their skin, dance in a close circle with each other.
I look down at my choice of outfit with my tight-black pants riding low on my hips and oversized front zip that ensures no-one would be trying to catch a glimpse of my panties, unlike those women.
The cropped black corset top covers plenty on top and makes my already decent sized rack look even more impressive, already drawing more than one set of roving eyes as people pass me by.
My eyes continue wandering up the staircase, from the first platform up to the second floor. A dark tinted glass barrier runs along the entire length, overlooking the front doors and the DJ platform to my immediate left, but from down here I can’t see anything beyond it.
I take a deep, fortifying breath, and make my way over to the bouncers guarding the stairs.
They simultaneously reach for their earpieces as their eyes slide to me, but it isn’t their sudden attention that causes my pulse to race.
A prickle at the back of my neck makes me lift my gaze and zero in on a shadowy figure leaning on the rail in the VIP area.
He, and it is definitely a man, is lit up from behind with a phone to his ear, and even though I can’t see his face, I know his focus is on me.
My body heats at his attention even at this distance.
I just stand, staring as he ends the call, the phone disappearing from view into his shadow.
I swear I can feel his eyes roam over me from head to toe, a tingle licks across my skin along the invisible path his eyes take.
I don't need to see his features to know who the man is, my instincts make it clear. Enzo steps back from the rail and out of sight, the movement breaking the spell I’d fallen under.
I feel an embarrassed flush creep up my neck as I re-focus on where I was going, before I got caught in the spider's web.
“Miss Walters,” the bouncer on the left says as I approach, “Mr Rossi is waiting for you in the VIP area at the top of the stairs.”
I don’t trust my voice yet, so I merely nod my thanks to the bouncer, as yet another velvet rope parts for me to enter.
I take the first couple of stairs slowly, my attention firmly on my feet so I am less likely to trip on my pants as I step up.
Suddenly, I’m roughly shoved to the side.
As my body hits the wall, I barely catch my balance in time to stop from tumbling back down the stairs.
“Watch where you’re going, skank .”
My eyebrows basically hit my hairline at the venomous tone the high-pitched voice screeches at me in.
My eyes lift to what I can only describe as a vengeful barbie.
Her virtually fluorescent pink, painted on dress, barely contains her ridiculously over-siliconed chest. Furious blue eyes buried under fake lashes and thick black liner flash in anger, as her lip curls in up in a snarl.
“Pretty sure you stumbled into the wrong part of the club, bitch,” she all but spits at me.
Sniggers from the posse of carbon copies standing behind her on the platform have me on edge, a nasty bottle-blonde bimbo steps down onto the step next to me, and she drops her shoulder to shove me aside again.
“I will have to get Enzo to fire the help. They clearly let anything with tits up into the VIP area.” She sneers with a wave of her hand to gesture at my chest as if my boobs are the only reason I could possibly be in the space she clearly thinks she owns.
Cold fury stiffens my spine. I take a second to square my shoulder and stand up to my full height. I glare at the woman, my anger rising. She clearly needs to be brought back down a peg or two. I take a menacing step towards her, unable to miss the unease in her eyes at my assertive response.
“There you are, Emmy. I was starting to think you somehow managed to get lost coming up the stairs,” rumbles a familiar deep voice. The sharp retort I had for her dies on my lips as we all turn to look at the dark god, standing on the stairs above us.
“Your friend and I were just getting to know each other, darling,” the bimbo purrs as she slinks up the stairs to run her hand possessively up Enzo’s chest. She practically mounts his leg in her attempt to plaster herself to his side.
My fury dies instantly and turns into dread.
Have I misread the whole situation with Enzo and I?
Enzo shocks both me and the bimbo, though, when he grabs her wrist and wrenches her hand roughly off him.
He turns his thunderous face to her and whispers something harshly.
I can’t hear what he says, but she blanches at his words, a feat I didn’t think possible given the heavy make-up that’s caked on her face, and stumbles back from him.
He descends to stand beside me with a smirk, then turns with a flourish so he is facing back up the stairs.
He holds his elbow for me to take. “You look lovely, Emilia,” he murmurs to me quietly, when I hesitate to take his proffered arm.
“Don’t mind Kayla. Her father and mine are business associates, so I am forced to play nice. ”
I glance up at Kayla who watches Enzo and I with barely contained anger on her pinched looking face.
I don’t even try to stop the small smile of satisfaction that tilts my lips up.
I turn up the wattage and practically beam at Enzo as I take his arm a moment later allowing him to lead me up the stairs towards the VIP area.
His eyebrow quirks at my reaction. He must catch on quickly though, and I see him shake his head and try to hide a chuckle.
Kayla steps in front of me when we reach her, and I feel Enzo stiffen in response at her bold move. I know I shouldn’t get involved in whatever they have going on, or stoop to her level, but I just can’t stop myself. I fake a small stumble, deliberately bumping into her as we go to pass.
“So sorry,” I say with absolutely no sincerity in my voice, “I guess I didn’t see you standing in my way. I can be so clumsy like that.”
Kayla’s mouth opens and closes as her eyes dart between Enzo and me.
It makes me wonder what Enzo said to keep her forked tongue from lashing out at me again.
Especially when I absolutely deserved it.
I go to step around her, but she grabs my arm and digs her sharp nails in hard enough that I know there will be crescent shaped marks left behind.
“You don’t want to start a cat fight with me, Kayla,” I lean into her space menacingly.
“Your little kitten has claws, Enzo,” Kayla croons. Her words are overly sweet as her grip tightens even more on my arm, while her eyes bore into mine with pure hate.
“Oh, I love this song!” Kayla squeals a moment later.
The tension between us breaks as her psycho switch gets flipped like we weren’t just about to throw down.
I watch in disbelief as she practically runs down the stairs, gathering up her posse as she goes back to the platform where she starts grinding against the rail and sings along off key.
The moment leaves me feeling like I have whiplash.
Enzo's hand touching mine lightly, where it still sits in the crook of his arm, jolts my attention back to the real reason I’m here. Him. “Shall we?”
I nod and let him lead me the rest of the way up to the VIP area.
I use the brief trek to get my head back in the game.
I have a reason for being here tonight, get closer to Enzo, and hopefully get some answers about my father’s death.
I just have to remind myself of that and not look too deeply at the flicker of something that felt awfully close to jealousy, when I thought Kayla and Enzo might be a thing.